Of Their Sense of Things
by Qieru
Summary: FE7. For Xirysa's Contest: Taste: He turned it around and carefully analyzed what she was showing him, swallowing his spongy bite of bread before addressing her. "We are going to make this?" KentLyn
1. Touch

Fire Emblem is the Property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

...

A.N. This one is older than the rest of the senses by a good deal of time, so it won't be written as well as the others.

...

Touch

He remembered his first trip the the market. The streets, if they could be called that, were cluttered with people driven by some unnatural energy, kicking up all manner of dust and dirt with their passing. Had he been any smaller at the time, the clouds would like have made him cough and hack and cause his eyes to water with their proximity. It fascinated him immensely, and he had been torn between both the desire to explore the new world of light and people and the security his mother's presence provided. The fear of separation compelled him to remain close however, and he observed the excitement as he kept close to her hip.

Most things his mother sought were displayed too high for him to reach, so he had to content himself with watching only. His curiosity was rewarded, however, when his mother led him to a stall loaded with crates of foods he had never seen before. What were they? How did they taste? What did they feel, smell like? He had reached forward eagerly, wanting to handle and touch every one of them.

But, before he'd experienced them through his senses, his mother had stricken the back of his hand and had drawn it away. He'd opened his mouth to protest, feeling as though he'd been denied sight and senses, and the right to experience the world, but was silenced by her look, soft, understanding, but firm

"Do not touch as if the whole of the world is yours, Kent," she'd told him, eyes level with his own. " Touch is revealing about what it affects. Do not touch to see, or to know. Only touch if you have purpose, not to find one. Touch is not like sight in that it can harm by it's action. Sight held too long on something does nothing but dry the eyes, where a touch can damage if held too long, too hard. " She took a fruit from a crate and held it in front of him. "I touch because I seek to purchase, I seek to make it mine and to treat it as I please." She had placed the fruit in his hands at that point and risen to pay the man at the stall for it and a small bag of ones like and dislike it.

He hadn't paid much more attention to the market beyond that point. He'd held her hand or skirts in one hand while staring at the fruit and thinking about what he'd been told. He'd rotated the thing in his hand and experimented on it with the different touches of which his mother had spoken. Held too long, and a pocket would form beneath the skin, pressed too hard and the skin would break. A little touch though, a brush of his finger, he thought at first did nothing, but he then saw the oils of his hand smeared where he had touched.

After satisfying his curiosity he had later eaten the treat, but he always carried his mother's words with him after.

And it is likely for that reason that he felt so unprepared for his current situation.

He'd been lucky, to say the least, that the lake had been blessedly shallow when he'd been unhorsed into it. Had his armor been any heavier, he very well could have drowned in the shallows, an embarrassing end for anyone. The cold had been a shock though, and simply falling in had felt like a kick to his chest. He'd propped himself up by his palms as quickly as he could, gasping for air and seeking his foe with a frantic gaze, unsure of how he'd defend himself with no weapon, but unwilling to be caught off guard. But, for all his searching, he'd clearly been assumed as well as dead for falling where he had.

He held his position for a bit, simply breathing, but knew he had to get out before the fate he'd avoided could take place as his muscles wore out and the cold numbed them to uselessness. He shifted a hand to the best position he could manage for holding the stress of his weight in armor and moved his other as fast as he could to undo the latches of his breastplate and separate it from his back before the strain was too much. It took several tries and rotations of his bracing arms and hands before his was able to disconnect the pieces of his bevor, cuirass and spaulders. With those removed, he was able to push himself to his feet, where he wavered and stepped unsteadily for a moment before reaching down to pick them up and make his way to a dry section of the shore.

His horse had wandered off without him, but he didn't have to strength to go after it. Instead he dropped the removed articles of his armor and fell beside them, leaning his back to a tree, breathing the air and shuddering occasionally as the wind whispered through his soaked clothes. He'd catch cold and fever if he left himself wet like this too long, he knew, but he could do nothing for the time being. After a moment, he shed his gauntlets and vambraces, freeing his hands to better pull his shirt free of his belt and wring water out of the end.

He'd been reflecting on how truly asinine it was of him to pursue his foes into the woods and away from the body of the army when he'd heard his name called. He didn't think anyone had seen him come here in the flurry of the battle and yet, he heard it again.

"Kent?"

It was Lady Lyndis. Twisting around he could see that she was leading his horse and seeking where its master had gone.

"Kent?" She called again, worry carried in the timbre of her voice. He coughed into a fist, the cold still clinging to his lungs, before responding with a slight rasp, "M'lady?" Her head turned to the direction of his voice, and he could see her smile as she took a faster step in his direction, his horse unhappily led behind.

His heart fluttered at that smile.

His affections shamed him, he knew, but he was powerless to their fancy. The most he could do was suppress them, keep them tucked away. But something seemed different in this moment. As he saw her make her way closer and closer, they seemed to drift through his restraints as if the armor he had removed from his chest had ceased guarding his heart more than just physically.

"Kent." She breathed relief as she came up to him, " I was worried when you hadn't returned from the battle, and when I found your horse without you..."

With another cough, he managed to look up at her and return, "Thank you, milady; I am fine." But before he had quite finished, he felt her hand probe his shoulder.

"Kent! You must be freezing in that!" She all but accosted him, tying his horse's reins to a tree branch, kneeling at his side and feeling the fabric down his arm before grasping his hand and accusing, "You are!"

Her touch sent another spasm through his heart, "Forgive me, Lady Lyndis, I was unhorsed into the lake." He cast his eyes down, both for being chastised and to hide the potential color which was likely staining his cheeks.

"The lake? Kent, I'm just happy you're alive after that, but you're going to need warmed and dried off if you're going to avoid illness." She leaned a little closer, plucking a couple sections of his shirt where it had been plastered to his skin.

He looked back up at her, about to assent to her logic, but saw that she seemed to have spaced out, a certain, oddly familiar expression worn on her face. "Milady?" He queried, confused at her sudden slowing in action. "Milady, is something--"

She reached forward, her finger lightly brushing over his soaked shirt, the feeling feathering down to his chest, encouraging small tremors to quake his body.

He recognized the expression for what is was now; he'd worn a very similar one himself that day in the market so long ago. She sought to see with her fingers, to know and feel and learn, but here there was no one to hold her hand back as his mother had. And in his state he was completely vulnerable to her exploration.

She traced lines and creases in the fabric across his musculature, gently dragging the tips over them until she rested her palm against his traitorously thumping heart. So long had it been protected from touch within the shell of his cuirass that in its exposure he could do nothing but watch her react to the revelation of its manic pulse. Her head tilted a little, her gaze fixated over her hand and his heart.

_A touch reveals._ "Milady?" He hoped to wake her from her reverie, but she remained lost in it. When she began to lean forward, he felt near to panicking. "Milady, what--I am wet, milady!" He protested only moments before she lay her head on his chest, her ear where her palm had been, her arm wrapping around his side. His breath caught up in his throat. Her touch. Her touch. What was she feeling, how much was she learning, what knowledge was his body betraying to her?

She was close, terribly close. Her warmth seeped into him as water seeps into fabric. He felt it melting away his sense of the world, leaving only her there. His sense of propriety began to fail him, and try as he might, he could not grasp at it again. His body shuddered.

"Are you not warm yet?" She asked from his chest. When he did not respond, he felt her arm leave his side and reconnect with the nape of his neck, gently fingering his short bristled hair.

It was not--he couldn't--

He felt her draw his head down and lift her own to meet it. She did not kiss his lips, but, for all that it was, the gentle heat which graced his cheek could not have been any less effective. His body was filled with it, and everything else seemed to disappear. He wrapped an arm around her, held her close, hoping to keep that warmth, that feeling, that_ touch_ from escaping him.

The world began to peck at his senses though. His duty, his presence of mind, everything crawled back into place.

"Lady Lyndis?" He choked. Her hands twitched on his chest and shoulder, she moved as if readjusting a moment before pushing herself away and looking back up at him. The hair on the side of her head that been laying to him was wet and tangled, pulling out of her hair-tie in places, sharking in others.

She smiled up at him with her soft, beautiful eyes, "Are you warm now, Kent?"

He managed a small nod, his voice still almost whispery," Thank you, milady."

"Good. I am glad to hear it." She pulled away, taking some of the warmth with her, and stood to her feet, extending her hand to him. "They are likely missing the both of us by now."

He took her hand and let her help him to his feet before brushing the myriad clods of dirt and forest from his breeches. Before they started the walk back, she helped him reaffix his armor as there was no way to attach it to his horse minus saddle bags.

As well they did anyway, for it certainly would do them no good if they arrived in a manner that invited gossip and rumor.

--

Fin

Review? :3

Vocab:

The bevor (as far as I can tell) is the term for the armor protecting the neck, the cuirass is the term for the whole of the connected pieces of his back and breastplates, and the spaulders are the term for his shoulder guards.

The vambraces are his forearm guards.

(Also, I felt like such a sap writing this, mentally pestered by it or not.)


	2. Smell

Smell

She had long believed that anything which smelled foul prefaced terrible or unhealthy things. If the wind of the plains she so loved bore a distasteful scent, the weather would predictably change for the worst. Meat, when rancid, diseased, or otherwise generally unfit for eating, radiated an odor that could make the very air writhe with disgust. People, even, described feelings of unease or foreboding as having a peculiar smell.

Ergo, and with such things in mind, there was no way she was going to ingest the dread concoction held before her.

She frowned, and narrowed her eyes, looking first at the drink and then to the person presenting it. "I will not drink such a thing." She firmly held eye contact for a while, before losing the battle of wills, looking to the side, and muttering, "Besides, why can't you just cure the ailment with your staff?"

Serra pursed her lips and huffed, shaking her head, "Lady Lyn, the damage is internal. Staves will only cure external or exposed wounds. Things you can _see_. This," She gestured with the simple cup in her hand, "is necessary to restore the damages _inside_ you. If you do not take it, due to the nature of the attack that befell you, you will eventually become catastrophically worse, beyond what any of us are capable of curing." She bit her cheek. Admitting her incapability to perform any task of healing was not something she accepted easily.

Lyndis chose not to respond, merely kneading the hem of the blanket with her fingers and ruminating on the event that put her in the predicament. She didn't remember it all, but then, intense, searing pain tended to warp one's memories anyway. She had thrown herself into the path of the attack, she could recall that. Why had she done it though? She had... she had been... trying to protect someone... Nils... and took the magical blow herself, and it had ripped its merry way to her core. She remembered wrapping her arms tightly around her midsection in vain hope that the gesture might alleviate some of the excruciating pain within, and that when it finally left, so had her energy. Her legs had then buckled beneath her, no longer able to sustain her weight; her memory blacked out shortly thereafter and her head struck the grass.

Serra took the opportunity in Lyndis's internal distraction to try and scoot her knees a little closer to the soft mat her patient was seated on, leaning forward with the cup ever so slightly. Lyndis noticed however, and leaned back into her propped-up pillow, glaring defensively and wrinkling her nose. As a result, Serra was beginning to get terribly frustrated. Honestly, who wouldn't want to get better? "You _must_ take it, Lady Lyn."

Lyndis only leaned further away from the cup and tightened her lips together.

"At least tell me _why_, then, and perhaps I can do something about it."

Why? No, she couldn't tell her why. She already had enough social and cultural irregularities in comparison to everyone else. She did not need to make things more awkward or to invite inane and prying questions by adding another to the stack.

She remained silent.

Serra narrowed her eyes and exhaled harshly. She was done with this game. It was time she changed the rules of play a bit. Pushing herself off her knees and to her feet she remarked, "Fine, I see how it is." With her single available hand, she smoothed the front of her dress before spinning around and stepping through the flap of the tent, her pigtails swaying a little with her sharp movements and leaving Lyndis alone in the tent.

She wasn't sure what to expect when Serra left. She knew that, somehow, she had to be cured or else she would truly decline in health, and probably beyond all help. But every time she even though about that vile brew, she couldn't even _consider_ consuming it at that point. In her temporary solitude she mused for a while on how she might be able to overcome this obstacle, what other options might be available to her. Eventually, she became aware that there were people outside her tent again, or approaching it, at least. She could tell one of them was Serra returned, but the other spoke too softly for her to identify.

They stood outside for a while, their walk finished but their conversation still going. It began to make her terribly anxious. Who was it? Had she brought Canas or Lucius and were they discussing a way to combine staves to fix her without need of the potion? Or perhaps she had wrangled some willing soul to hold her still while she was forcibly fed the thing? She fussed with the blanket hem more, scenarios stacking up in her mind with every second of waiting. Eventually she was rewarded with the sound of someone pulling the tent flap back and ducking inside.

No.

No No. That wasn't fair. She wasn't allowed to bring him in.

That was cheating.

She scooted down under the blanket a little and tried to press herself into the pillow a little bit more while he knelt next to her, setting the familiar cup beside him and remaining still ever formal. She'd told him time and time again he did not have to be, and yet he did not change. She fidgeted for a while in the silence between them, not daring to look up. He would not allow himself to say so, but she knew he was worried, and she would be able to see it in his eyes. And then she would feel like a child having a tantrum, causing unnecessary problems.

Eventually she could no longer take it and mumbled, "Kent..."

He spoke levelly, tapping the rim of the cup, "Serra tells me you will not drink the elixir."

She let the question hang for a moment before conceding, "I will not," and daring to tilt her head a little and chance a glance in his direction.

"Do you not believe that it will help?"

She shifted her shoulders. His question and expression both reflected sincerity. "...No." She muttered, unsure even if he could hear her, or properly interpret her response.

"Then, do you not trust that it is safe?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and tucked down a little more, drawing her blanketed knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. That was not... entirely true, nor entirely untrue.

"Lady Lyndis...?"

She still didn't answer. She chanced another look in his direction, and the hairs at the back of her neck rose with worry and anxiety as she saw him tilt the vile thing to his own lips and take a sip. She watched him for a while after he'd set the glass back down, almost completely convinced _s__omething_ was going to happen. He might become ill himself, change colors, get spots, pass out... Something so foul _had_ to have severe repercussions. It did. She knew it did. it _always_ did.

And yet... he still sat there, unchanged in form or expression, watching her back.

He didn't change.

He didn't change.

He didn't--"Lady Lyndis."

She was startled out of her intense observation, finally blinking and accidentally allowing herself to look up at him more fully.

He leaned forward a little, holding the cup towards her, his expression entreating her to take it, "Elixirs of this potency are hard to come by, Lady Lyndis."

Too close! She wrinkled her nose with disgust and nearly recoiled away from from the proffered potion. "Then perhaps they should not make it smell like a cow's second breakfast!" She shouted before being able to catch herself and reign the outburst in. It was too late now though, and she hunkered a little, rolling her lips between her teeth, unsure of how such information would be taken.

Kent simply leaned back (taking the dread thing out of direct range of her sense of smell) and tilted his head ever so slightly, "Then... your refusal concerns how it smells?"

It sounded... so... so _stupid_ when spoken aloud.

She fisted the blanket in her lap, looking away and mumbling bitterly, "You probably think me foolish."

"No, of course not."

She whipped her head back around to search his face for hidden feelings or deception only to find that he was pushing himself to his feet. Her heart constricted with worry, and she looked up and down him several times, "Kent? Where are you going?"

Picking up the cup, he replied simply, "I will return shortly, Lady Lyndis," before inclining his head in to her and disappearing out the tent.

Again, she was left alone, but for that, this time, her heart beat forcefully against the inside of her chest. He knew why she wouldn't take it, he had the dread knowledge, but what was he going to do with it? Was his job done? Was he taking the information of her outburst to Serra where it would likely spread from her to everyone else in a matter of hours (or minutes)?

She twisted the blanket in her hands before lowering her head to her knees. As fast as he said he would return, it was neither too soon, nor late enough.

And when he finally did return, ducking back through the flap, she could very well have been driven mad by her racing thoughts and wild guesstimates of what had occurred beyond the presently boxed little world of her tent.

"Where did- You didn't-"

She swallowed as she watched him seat himself next to her again, and set the cup beside him, while he held another and stirred it. Her inquiries were lost to curiosity. A second cup? She reached out and snatched the one which had previously help the elixir. Peering inside she found in empty, save a few lingering droplets (and a foul smell). Her inspection was interrupted when the new cup was presented to her.

She looked at it, and then to her trusted knight and friend holding it out, and then back to the cup again. She swallowed and shook her head a little, leaning away from it. And, again, she watched him raise it to his lips and take another sip.

He held the cup out to her again.

He didn't change.

Hesitantly she reached forward to it. He had never yet presented her with something that was detrimental to her well-being...

He waited patiently for her to fully take the cup of her own accord before letting it go completely, but even then, she sat and stared at it for a while. She had watched him drink it, twice even, and nothing had yet happened. But... he added something the second time, stirred it in. Perhaps whatever he had added had negated the effects of the first sip? Effects he had so cleverly concealed from her. She mused over the cup and it's contents, her thoughts boiling around various hypotheses.

Eventually, she arrived at a suitable one and, wincing, tilted it back for a few rapid swallows. Almost immediately she could feel the mixture start to slowly restore strength she had forgotten she'd lost and to soothe pains she didn't know she had.

Kent nodded approvingly as she continued to down the rest of the elixir, returning to his feet as she finished it and sucked some of the odd taste from her mouth with smacking sounds. "Are you feeling better, now, Lady Lyndis?"

"I..." she held back a little. Regardless of the circumstances, it still felt as if she had been simply stubborn and foolish. "...Yes," she relinquished.

He nodded again, "Then, please, Lady Lyndis, get some rest. I will return again later."

She acquiesced with a nod, looking down at her lap. Before he left, however, she rotated the cup in her hand and called out to him, "Kent... what did you put in it?"

He stopped and turned to her, a ghost of a smile flickering across his features, "Nothing, Lady Lyndis."

Startled, she looked down at the cup in her hand and twisted it around several times, inspecting it for telltale signs of another substance. Dissatisfied, she peered inside it until she was hit with the familiar wave of nasty smells. Horrified, she dropped the cup and let it fall and roll away.

She had...

She had...

She looked up to demand what was going on, but her faithful knight had already left.

Oh...she was going to have words with him...

...x...

Fin.


	3. Sound

Sound

She remembered the spring rains on the plains and how much she had looked forward to them as a child. She would always keep her ears alert for the chariots of thunder the vast, grey clouds rode over the mountains. It would excite her so much every time she even thought she heard them come. And when they did, she always had to fight her inner desires (and on occasion her own mother) to run through the whispering plains to meet the storms herself with wide, open arms. The winds would howl and tease her, and pull her hair all the while singing and whistling between the falling droplets. She sometimes liked to try and sing back, but always ended up giggling as she caught water in her mouth, and settled back to listen instead.

She had always loved the sounds of rain.

"Milady! Milady Lyndis, what are you doing? You'll ruin your hair and your dress!"

Strong, insistent hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her back and away from the outside air and her fond memories. With a wistful sigh, Lyndis watched as Miriam, her handmaid, closed the window and latched it, the small handle clicking into its lock. The sounds of the outside storm were muffled by the pane of glass and moments later cut off by the rustle of the curtains being pulled over it.

The maid, a sweet, if aged, little thing with an airy voice and all the wrong esteems, clucked at her, "Lady Lyndis, it is almost time for you to make your appearance and you've gone and nearly spoiled it with such silly nonsense as sticking your head out into the rain! Here. Come. Come and I'll salvage it. Let me fix you up, come now." She rattled off her words as she bustled around the room, picking up various utensils for her new purpose before setting them at Lyndis's dressing table, and patting the back of the chair instructionally.

Lyndis was helpless to do anything but obey and, taking a fistful of her many-layered skirts, she gingerly stepped towards the seat until she was close enough to turn and pitch backwards into it. Glancing into the mirror moments before her hair was dismantled by the woman, she internally sniffed and thought that it looked exactly the same as before she had leaned through her window. Very much disinterested in the long and unnecessary process of fixing her terrible misdemeanor, she closed her eyes and let the only one who actually cared manage the complications herself. The sounds of the procedure blended together- the fizzle of the boar-bristle brush sliding through her knots, the whisper and hiss of her hair being wound up and pinned with a comb, the click and clatter of the strings of small pearls being weaved into the end of her now abbreviated ponytail, until, "All right, I've fixed you up again. Now, please, Lady Lyndis, don't go sticking your head out of any more windows."

Lyndis opened her eyes to see her reflection looking, again, no different than before. She kept this to herself, however, and replied with a kind smile, "Thank you very much Miriam. It looks perhaps better than before, I think. And I shall try and restrain myself in the future."

"You flatter me, sweetheart, but thank you. And see that you do!" The woman looked Lyndis in the eye, as if to ascertain her sincerity on the matter, stopped a moment to straighten one of her lady's sleeves, and finished with a curtsy before exiting the room.

Lyndis exhaled gratefully as if a significant pressure had finally been lifted. She peered at herself in the mirror, preparing to make some adjustments of her own. Finding that the desk-mirror was not adequate to suit her needs, she rose up and walked over to her long mirror. When she was met with her full reflection, she frowned. The whole ensemble was too... tidy, too ridiculous. Leaning forward she pulled a few strands of her hair loose of the comb to hang by her cheeks and across her forehead. That was much better than before. She shook her head to loosen the tight bundles of pearls. Honestly, if they were intended to look like droplets of water hanging in her hair, it would do if they were less uniform.

As she started to inspect her dress, she heard a knock on her door. Absently she called out, "You can come in," as she began to hike her skirts up to see just how many of the blasted things she had and to examine the underside, perhaps to verify that she was still somewhere inside. She was barely aware that the door had opened behind her before she heard it slam again. She looked up from her skirts to turn around, but found that no one was there. Dismissing the instance she turned back to her reflection. How many absurd layers of cloth _were_ there? Really? Was it all _necessary_? Amid the impracticality of it all, she would get terribly hot, she just knew she would.

Perhaps she could use them to at least some sort of advantage. With her feet securely hidden from view, she could wear a more comfortable, more practical pair of shoes within. She could wear her boots and no one would notice; she could even fail to wear shoes at all. _That _certainly was an appealing thought. Gingerly balancing on each foot, she stepped back and kicked off her shoes. Oh, that was so much better.

"Lyn? Lyn are you in here?"

Lyndis turned around to see her longtime friend Florina peeking in through her slightly open door. "Florina! Come in, come in!" Releasing the wads of fabric, she gestured enthusiastically, hobbling forward a bit as she did so. Florina smiled and finished ducking inside, closing the door quietly behind her. She too had been fitted with a formal dress, but nothing so extravagant as the one Lyndis was forced to wear. It was also, apparently, much easier for her to move in, as shown by how swiftly she was able to trot up to her friend.

"Lyn, you look beautiful!" Florina gasped, taking in the sight and marveling in awe.

Lyndis allowed herself to grin a little as she pressed the front of her dress down a little while she spoke, "Yes, well, I can hardly see any part of myself at all. This thing is absurd. Look at it!" She took fistfuls of her front and pulled them up, waving them around in front of her. "I _still_ can't see my feet! I could probably hide a small dog in here and no one would notice." She chewed her lip and rolled the idea around for a moment, taking a liking to it, "Maybe I _should_."

Florina seemed torn between giggling and looking aghast, "Lyn, you can't do that!"

"And why not? It's _my_ birthday. I should be allowed to do what I want, not be paraded around at some arbitrary display of decadence like a prize peacock."

Florina gave in to her petite giggles, which in turn transformed Lyn's scowl into a smile. She managed to chuckle a bit herself before readdressing a matter at hand, "Oh, Florina, can you help me with something?" She turned around and waved her hands around the small of her back, making clawing motions at the laces. "Miriam seems to have incredibly high expectations for my figure, but I'm afraid it's much too hard to breathe with how tight she's tied my dress. Could you loosen them for me, please? Though, I suppose you mustn't too much or I'll get caught and tied up again."

Florina nodded and reached for the strings, slowly pulling them apart to allow Lyndis the privilege to breathe without extensive constraint. After a short moment of silence, she spoke, "You might want to apologize to Sir Kent, you know."

Lyndis's brow furrowed, "Hmm? Why? What did I do?"

Florina giggled, "Well, when I came to your room, I passed him and he was standing all rigid and his face was terribly red. You must have done _something_, Lyn."

Lyndis thought back, trying to figure out what she may have done. She hadn't seen him all day, she thought. So when had he-oh! Lyndis's face broke into a broad grin, "Oh, I know what happened. I was adjusting my dress in front of my mirror earlier when someone knocked. I told them they could come in, but I heard the door close shortly after. He must have seen my reflection while I had my dress pulled up."

"Lyn! How terribly embarrassing!"

She brushed it aside "Oh, he shouldn't be so upset, I showed far more leg when we were off fighting with Hector and Eliwood. But, I suppose I will approach him about it later." She turned her head to see Florina better as she finished tying up the laces, "Speaking of them, you know they will be here, right? Are you excited at all?"

Florina's cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she cast her eyes down on the knot she was tying. "Umm, y-yes."

Lyndis smiled and turned around to fully face her friend again, "Do you know if he has anything he wants to say to you?"

"I...no...I don't."

"Will you be okay if he asks to dance with you?"

"I... ummm..." Florina proceeded to fluster and flush even more, but was spared from having to answer as a cheery voice wafted into the room from outside the door after a brief knock.

"Are you lovely ladies ready to be escorted to the floor?"

Lyndis gave Florina a look which indicated she was excused from speaking for the time being, before replying, "Yes, Sain, we'll be out in just a moment."

Both the girls looked each other over for final primping procedures, making sure everything was in place and pinned properly. When they were finally satisfied, Lyndis shuttled Florina to the door ahead of her before she could point out, quite obviously, that her friend had left her shoes in front of the mirror.

Upon opening the door, they were greeted by both the Knight Commander and Subcommander of Caelin. Each still wore the colors that characterized them, though their attire was much more formal, their armor ceremonial as opposed to completely functional. "You both look very handsome," Lyndis remarked as she slid her arm into the crook of Kent's.

Sain's face broke into a broad grin, "Why, thank you, Lady Lyndis, but I do believe your magnificent beauty outshines us by far." Kent merely nodded, fidgeting a little in his lack of extensive metal shelling. His accouterments were far inadequate for any amount of protection, and, without his customary style and expanse of armor, she could see that he felt a little exposed. Lyndis smiled up at him, however, and rubbed his arm encouragingly, though she was a bit pleased to know she was not the only one dissatisfied with their required formal dress code.

Sain proffered his own arm to Florina, which she timidly accepted, allowing them to to begin making their way to the atrium, where the enormous event was beginning to take place.

...

Blessedly, the general chatter of the crowds turned out to be less deafening that Lyndis had anticipated. She could actually hear herself think and hold conversations with guests (though many of which, she held absolutely no desire to associate with), and she could actually hear the symphonies performed by the musicians. She liked the strings, especially; they reminded her of the whispers of the wind back on the plains. The soft wisps of sound were always pleasing to her ears, and were much more preferable to the human voices that were wafting around the room. If she listened hard, she could just-

"Lyndis! There you are!" She knew that bold tone anywhere.

"Hector!" She smiled as she saw the lord wave and approach her. She watched as he shouldered through a clique of twittering females who scoffed and gave him the hairy eyeball for interrupting their conversation with his passing. Eliwood soon followed in his wake and was subject the same treatment. When Hector turned to apologize to them, they lost whatever interest they had in their location, sniffed, and turned away, gossiping amongst themselves in their departure.

He rubbed the back of his neck a tad sheepishly, "I'm not that horrifying, am I?"

Lyndis snickered, patting his shoulder, "Well, you do dwarf them by a significant measure. Regardless, it is good to see you again. And you, Eliwood. Did you lose Ninian in swarms of parasitic fi- I mean nobles?"

Both of them had a hard time keeping their laughs at respectable levels, though only Eliwood had to overcome his in order to form a response, "Florina wanted to talk to her, so they went off together some time ago."

"Oh?" Lyndis perked at the mention of her good friend and turned back to Hector, "Have you spoken to Florina yet?"

"Ah, no... I actually did want to ask her to dance with me though... it's kind of hard to even do that when I can't find her. Oh, speaking of dances, I've heard that Eric wants to have one with you, Lyndis."

She blanched and her hands tightened into fists, "Me? With the son of the man who nearly murdered my grandfather? Where does he find the _nerve_ to think I'd willingly acquiesce to such a thing?"

"Beats me. Why did you invite him anyway?"

"It's not like I wrote the invitations or anything myself. I've hardly been allowed to have a hand in this ridiculous affair at all." She clipped.

Eliwood put a calming hand to her shoulder, "It's okay, Lyndis, it's not like we're going to help him or anything. You deserve to have a good time during your birthday celebration. Speaking of which, Hector and I both have presents for you--"

"That'll have to wait." Hector interrupted. " He's here. Lyndis, quick, before he sees you!"

At first she thought it must be a joke, but, by following Hector's gaze, she could see the disagreeable visage of Eric of Laus peering through the crowds in search of her. " I... can't I hide behind you, Hector? You're certainly tall enough!"

"In that umbrella? You're either flattering or insulting me, thinking I can conceal you while you're in that thing! At any rate, it's too late now, I think he's seen you."

Lyndis wanted nothing better that to run and hide, to cloak her footsteps in the ambient noises of the people and the music, and to disappear among the other absurd dresses and hairstyles of the evening. She wanted to be able to share her true feelings about the horrible man approaching her and shout and spit and scowl at him until she was hoarse and dry and her face hurt. But, like a good noble, she stood still, her hands folded in front of her, awaiting his approach.

It was agonizing, the time it took for him to reach her. She spaced out, and the world echoed in her ears. All sounds combined into one general mass of tones rising and falling, distorted as if she were underwater. There was no distinction in anything, no focus, no harmony. Just a simple, blunted cacophony swirling around her. As a result, the the many repetitions of her name never reached her sense of hearing, and Eliwood had to gently shake her from her daze.

"Ah, yes! I'm sorry!" She blurted, taking the world into focus, unfortunately finding that a great deal of her visual space was now occupied by Eric. She looked around, hoping to draw support from her friends, but found that they were already no help at all. In fact, they and the man before her were mutually ignoring each other and pretending the other didn't exist. She wanted to scowl at them for abandoning her in such a way, but her thoughts were interrupted by Eric himself.

He coughed into his fist before extending it to her, "I do not believe we have ever formally met. I am Eric of Laus."

She wanted very much to wither away from that hand, to not have anything to do with it or the man to whom it belonged. Instead, swallowing and trying to ignore the intense beating of her own heart in her ears, she placed her fingertips in his and curtsied as she had been taught, "Lyndis of Caelin." She internally shuddered as she realized what she had just exposed herself to. Eric bowed over her hand and brought it towards his lips. Screams, wails, and whimpers exploded within her. She wanted to cry, to scream, to holler and let everyone know, everyone_ hear _how much she detested the man before her.

Blessedly, he did not actually openly kiss her hand, but instead pressed his lips to the back of his own thumb, as was proper. Her inner tantrum only lessened by a minute amount, but enough for her to hear and process his next words.

"I was hoping you might honor me with a dance, Lady Lyndis." His voice rang in her ears with deafening clarity, slicing to her core as only a personal offense could. Did he know what he was asking her to do? Was he really so dense as to ask this of her? Oh, but she could not refuse. The dictates of nobility and society ruled that she must accept. Especially in regards to another of equal class, she could not be inhospitable and reject his offer. She swallowed and opened her mouth to speak.

"I am sure Lady Lyndis would be delighted to share the floor with you under a shroud of fantastic melodies; however, there is a matter of great urgency which requires her attention."

That... those words were not hers. She looked around her for the source and discovered Sain standing just over her shoulder. Her voice failed her for the moment as she fish-mouthed. Had she just been...

"Is that so?" Eric looked quizzically at Sain, not sure if the interruption was deliberate or simply circumstance.

"Yes, I am afraid it is. The matter is most severe indeed." How Sain managed to hold a straight and formal smile while uttering those words, Lyndis could hardly fathom.

Eric turned to her, "Later, perhaps, then?"

Sliding her hand around Sain's arm, she nodded tightly, before allowing herself to be escorted away, surreptitiously swatting Hector's shoulder in passing for his uselessness.

As the two of them walked away, she allowed her frantic thoughts to rest, blanketing them in the myriad noises which surrounded her. By concentrating, again,she could hear past all the conversations and just listen to the orchestra and it was allvery calming, the strings, especially. She could breathe at ease, without worry for the time being.

"Thank you, Sain."

He grinned widely, "Of course, Lady Lyndis. I could do no less, but, what I said was not false."

She turned and looked up at him curiously, "Oh? Something has happened? What is it that might be serious enough to require my attention during an event of this scale?"

"I think you'll find that you see in just a moment."

That was odd. It was not entirely like him to withhold anything from her. Unless...

As they finished passing through the mobs of cliques and gossipers and standing diners, they reached the sparsely populated fringe of the atrium. And it was here that she spied her Knight Commander, leaning against the wall, sternly observing the proceedings ahead of him. Lyndis began to smile.

Sain gestured almost wildly towards the knight, "He has been there all evening and it's begun to worry me. He's scarcely moved an inch, and not even to partake in the fantastic feast that our magnificent cooks have provided. All he does is stand there and glare most fiercely at people who pass too close; I'm afraid he's begun to frighten some of the attendees. And what's worse is that I believe the man lacks a beautiful woman to share the floor with him." He looked down to her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think you know how to amend this, Lady Lyndis?"

"Oh yes, I think I know quite how to handle this situation. Thank you for bringing this dire need to my attention. " She grinned at him before eagerly trotting forward and towards the man of their discussion. Incredibly, with the lack of a pair of noisy shoes clicking across the floor, she came within several feet of him before he noticed her approach, straightening to attention.

"Lady Lyndis," He bowed toward her slightly, bending at his waist.

Oh he was so formal, so handsome, "Kent," she beamed.

He stood without speaking for a moment, as if unsure of how to he was supposed to react to his new situation. Lyndis was patient, however, and waited for him to finally clear his throat and ask, "Is there anything you need of me, Lady Lyndis?"

She stepped closer to him, "I believe there is something you can do for me, yes." She paused for a moment before continuing, "I want you to dance with me."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying vainly to form a response he did not have. She had to hold in a bout of giggles as she heard his teeth click every time his jaw snapped closed. Only after she had circled her arm into his was he finally able to speak again, though in a voice that was a little raspier than before. "L-Lady Lyndis, " he swallowed, glancing around them for observers before returning his gaze to her own eyes, "I... certainly you would be more interested in... dancing with someone else whose skills surpass my own. And that aside, what do you think might happen if you were found favoring me?"

"I think I am allowed to dance with my own escort and Knight Commander as I please, which I do." She patted his upper arm encouragingly, "And it is not as if we will attract so much attention. I may be the hostess, but I am not the only dancer. Now come, it will not be so bad as you think. And besides, you cannot use the same excuse for your skills as the last time Caelin held an event. You and I both know how capable you are."

Still clearly a little ambivalent over the situation but not wishing to oppose his lady, he acquiesced with a nod and began to walk her to the floor. Consciously, he observed the people around them. It was as she had said, however, no one was paying any special attention to them. Even by trying to catch words of the conversations they passed, he could hear nothing of relation to them. It was as if they were momentarily invisible. He was startled from his surveillance when she removed herself from his arm to slide both of her hands into his own. She looked to him to lead, which he attended to in short order. However...

"Kent," Lyndis murmured to him in a teasing tone just loud enough for him to hear, "You do not have to be so stiff. You know that. Nobody is watching, I promise." With those words, she leaned just a little closer to him, though not far enough to quite touch. Still, even with the space between them, she was very happy to be near him in such a way. It felt so right, his hands with hers, the music around them. Nothing could spoil the feeling, she thought.

And then, from over Kent's shoulder, she spied Eric and remembered what she had promised.

No. No it wasn't fair! He had clearly seen her, even from his distance and through the crowds. And he was coming her way. Her mind boiling with thoughts and fears, she unconsciously squeezed Kent's hands a little in her anxiety.

"Lady Lyndis?" His voice wafted up to her ears, but she could hardly hear it. There had to be something she could do. Some way to avoid the undesirable entity making his way towards her and the simple dance he intended to cut into. Her breathing accelerated to short, abbreviated breaths. She didn't want to. She didn't want to.

By now, Kent's concern was obvious in his voice, and he had stopped moving to address her. "Lady Lyndis, is something the matter?"

_Everything_, she wanted to tell him. _This place, this party, this dress..._

_This dress._

That was it. She had her escape.

And without a word, she collapsed into Kent's arms and ceased moving. At his shout of alarm, she let her eyes fall closed. She felt him slowly lower her to the floor and attempt to raise her once more, but she would not be moved.

"What happened to her?"

"Is she all right?"

"What was she doing?"

"The poor dear, collapsing at her own celebration."

"What could have caused such a thing?"

"She made me spill punch on my dress..."

All sorts of voices feigned concern and pity and all else swarmed around her, though none of the ones she was listening for. Where were they? She could feel Kent's arms shaking as he held her, unsure of what to do. She was terribly sorry to have to do this to him, but she felt she had little choice. She coughed a little, gasped, and moaned.

He was immediately attentive, "Lady Lyndis! Are you.. did I...?"

She did not answer except to breathe abruptly a few times.

_Come on...where are you?_

"Lyndis!"

"L-Lyn!"

At last, the voices she had been listening for, well, voice, actually. That Florina had spoken simultaneously with Hector was a benefit, or at least, she hoped it would be.

"Kent, what happened to her?" Hector's bold tone. He chose now, of course, to help in her plight. Well, no matter, this time she was taking care of it herself. She heard no reply to him, and assumed Kent was shaking his head, at loss for words.

Lyndis coughed and gasped again.

"L-Lyn! Um... did... did I not make it loose enough?"

_That's it, Florina. Keep going._

"Loose... enough?"

"Umm... yes." Florina lowered her voice a little and Lyndis could tell she had moved a little closer, probably so no one else would hear. "Before... before we came... Lyn asked me to l-loosen her dress so she could breathe better. I... p-perhaps I did not do enough? And it... it is awfully hot in here. That m-might have something to do with it."

She felt Kent adjust his arms around her before he spoke, "Then... all she needs is air? A less-stifling location for a while? Nothing else is the matter?"

"Y-yes. I think so..."

She heard the rustle of her skirts drag across the floor and each other as Kent lifted her cradled form up. "Do you think she'll need anything else? Would you accompany me to make sure?"

"Umm..."

Lyndis took a sharp breath and let the motion roll her head towards Kent's chest.

"Ah... n-no. I think you'll be fine, S-sir Kent."

Lyndis had to resist the urge to smile in gratitude as she was carried away from the din of the people who were beginning to return to chatter and normalcy without her. As it faded away she could hear the soft, even step of her carrier taking her into the halls; she could even hear him breathing above her.

Feeling she was finally safely away from everyone, and not entirely sure where Kent was taking her for her 'air', she decided to release the poor man from her falsehood. She reached her hand up and, teasing his collarbone with her finger, murmured, "Thank you, Kent."

He stopped. "Lady... Lady Lyndis?"

"Mmm?" She started to tinker with his formal breastplate, pretending to pay him little attention.

"I... Lady Lyndis... was this... deliberate?"

"Mmm... and if it was?"

"Was it... necessary?"

"If I had told you of my intentions, even moments before I had decided to act on them, you would have felt obligated to rouse and return me to the function. It is my canton, my castle, my celebration, and my birthday. I think I have the right to do what _I_ want and not what anyone else expects from me, don't you?" She stopped fiddling with his front to look up into his face.

"And... what do you want, milady?"

"I want to hear the rain."

Her answer seemed to catch him off-guard. "The rain, milady?"

"Mmhmm." She unfastened his breastplate and, pulling the abbreviated piece of metal into her lap, lay her head on his chest to hear his heart pulse through it. She paused a moment before sighing and adding, "I promised Miriam earlier that I would not stick my head out of anymore windows this evening, but I said nothing of not going outside. I am missing a wonderful storm inside this infernal stone stronghold, and if I cannot yet return to my plains, I would at least like to go out and be in the closest thing I can equate to them.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

After a pause, he smiled gently and lowered his head over her, whispering, "It is as my lady wishes."

Fin.

...

Well, I kinda worry if this has enough hearing-imagery or too much of other senses, but I'm largely satisfied. There are some parts which bother me a bit, but I suppose that happens.


	4. Sight

Sight

...x...

He couldn't see her and it troubled him greatly.

Where was she?

The attack had come so quickly, so suddenly, but she couldn't have been affected by it. Not yet. Could she? She had to still be here somewhere. From atop his horse he scanned the turmoil of people, seeking but not finding. Everywhere, people swarmed for their swords, their axes, their lances, their tomes. But she was not among them. He sought to identify her by her characteristic traits. Her gait, her height, her ponytail, anything familiar to catch his eye. He vaguely heard someone address him, but he paid them no mind, that is, he didn't until he felt his horse jerk beneath him. He took his eyes from his more distant gazing to see the person below him, loosely holding his horse's head by the bridle.

"Kent, I-"

He shook his head interrupting, "I am sorry, Sir Mark, but I need to find Lady Lyndis. She may be in need of my aid." He inclined his head in apology as he pulled his horse a different direction, "If you'll excuse me." Mark stared open-mouthed for a moment, but let the bridle go. There was no stopping the cavalier when he was fixated on his duty, of that there was no doubt. It was best to let him do as he would, besides, it was not like he needed guidance or anything; his decisions were sound enough.

Trotting his horse across the camp, Kent sought to find her closer to the tents, perhaps she was still inside one. Perhaps she had been- there! There by the edge of the Merlinus's wagon, she was affixing her blade to her hip. He hastened to her side, she seemed well enough from a distance, but he could not be sure. If anything had happened to her...

"Lady Lyndis, are you well?"

She looked up at him, as if surprised he had found her, "Yes. Yes of course. I'm fine, Kent. "

"The attack did not affect you in any way?"

She knelt down and began fiddling with the ties at her calves, "Of course not. I am here and well, am I not?"

"Then, Lady Lyndis, please, allow me to accompany you into battle."

"Kent, it's fine. I'll be fine." She assured him hastily, tugging at the edge of her boot before rising back to a standing position, "I'll be with Hector and Eliwood, and I'm sure Mark needs your skills better elsewhere. So go. I'll be okay."

He looked down at her dubiously, but she held her earnest expression. After a moment, he slowly nodded before carefully wheeling his horse around. With a last unsettled glance at his lady, he spurred his horse away to re-locate their tactician for his orders.

...x...

The battle was long and arduous, but they seemed to be holding the advantage, despite their initial lack of preparation. Injuries had so far been relatively few and less than critical. The enemy was slowly falling back, their numbers steadily declining. To say that this gave them something of an air of arrogance would not overstate things. They were doing well, marvelously so and there was no reason such things should not continue.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed by their foe. They knew they were losing the battle, but the concept of 'winning' in general was perhaps a little different to them. Their goal was not necessarily to destroy, though such an outcome would not be undesirable. They simply fought. They felt no pain, nor emotion at their loss of life nor that of their comrades. This was not an unknown fact.

They were not there for the entire army anyway. They had specific orders and, so long as they were carried out, it did not matter if they were decimated to the last. They would have 'won' in their eyes and have accomplished their purpose as they had been instructed. They would feel nothing afterwards, but that was a matter of inconsequence. They would not know they had missed anything.

As they fought, a group of them managed to back their targets against a cliff, restlessly pursuing them, never pausing between attacks and slashes, nor hesitating when comrades fell. They had done them a great service, grouping themselves as they had. Their targets, the little lordling leaders of the pitiful, motley swarm of humans resisting their master, had all decided to fight together and had been easy to separate from the body of the annoying and obstructive passel of human wretches.

They were resilient against their inevitable end. Cornered as they were, however, they would succumb eventually. They appeared well-suited and resistant to their barrage of physical attacks, blade, axe, and lance alike, but this was easily amendable. One of their own, trained in magics rather than steel, separated itself from their organized assault, darting around their field of battle with calculated purpose. It sought a suitable location, a bit of height, and, finding an acceptable location, withdrew a yellow tome from the folds of its dark cloak. Without removing its eyes and focus from its target, it ripped one page from the center and fisted the parchment in its hand, murmuring words unintelligible to any but itself. Once the page was alight and had become a living charge of electricity, it let the magic fly.

The bolt seared through the air and splintered the cliffside. The lordlings below barely had time to look up and register what had occurred before great chunks of rock broke free and cascaded downwards. Largely transfixed by their rapidly approaching demise, none of them could think to move out of the way; they only braced themselves for painful impact, throwing their arms over their faces as they were veritably crushed beneath the landslide.

Some of its own kind were caught in the attack, crushed just as their targets had been. It didn't matter though. They had accomplished _their_ task. Regardless of the outcome of the battle, they had succeeded in what they had intended.

...x...

_Damn it all. _

_How long? How long had she been veritably buried beneath that mass of boulders before she and the others were found? Was she even still alive after it all?_

_His fault. His. He should have been at her aid. He should have insisted on accompanying her._

He practically leapt from his horse the moment he had been able to return to the main camp. The low sun cast long shadows everywhere, warping his perception of the layout. Which one? Which one would it be? Tightly fisting his horse's reins, he took a fast pace, striding through the camp in search of the healers and their patients.

Crushed. _Crushed_. By a landslide, no less. All three of the lords affected and no one else had been near enough to stop it. There was no excuse. All of them could have died, may_ still _die, for everyone's negligence. Unacceptable. Everything.

Peering past aisles of tents, he caught sight of a pair of pink pigtails swinging as their owner spoke to a demure redhead, gesturing to and with a held staff and to the tent beside them. Kent increased his speed, nearly yanking his horse behind him as he took off for the cleric.

"Serra." He spoke after he had arrived and composed himself.

She turned to him after handing Priscilla the staff in her hand, exhaustion clear in her features. "Sir Kent." She had been expecting him; the unsaid words followed, hanging in the air.

"Is she within?"

She bit her lip and twirled one of her pigtails around her forefingers."Yes."

That was all he needed to know. He nodded in ascension and began to walk towards the tent.

Serra interposed herself between him and his destination, putting a restraining hand to his breastplate, "Sir Kent, you must understand. She's not fully healed yet, and it will still be a long time and many treatments before she is." She locked eyes with him, intending to identify whether or not he _did_ understand, and was, unsurprisingly, met with his characteristic grim features. She sighed. "Very well. But be sure you do not let any extra light in, she needs the darkness right now. I will be joining you in a moment, I have something to attend first. I trust you can behave yourself until then."

His expression still did not change, but he gave a short not. She nodded to him in return, accepting the answer and stepped aside to allow him entry, taking the reins from his hands so he would not have to worry about his steed wandering off.

He drew back the flap of the tent and bowed his head inside. Various healing implements were scattered on the ground near a small cot, an indication of the myriad procedures the patient had so far been subject to. He took a few steps forward so that he could see the figure which lay haphazardly on top the cot. Even with the warnings he had been given, he could hardly have been any less prepared for the sight which greeted him.

Her body was broken. Even with the healing sessions she'd had so far, she was still quite far from any degree of respectable health. What he could see of her skin was still peppered with dark, ugly bruises and vicious cuts and scars. Several of her fingers, her upper arms, and her head were all bandaged tightly, many of the cloths soiled with blood. Through the sheet which lay over her lower half, he could see that her legs had not yet been healed into proper alignment, and twisted inward slightly.

As he approached her, her eyes fluttered open and she turned towards him. Something was wrong, though. Her vision wavered over and around the short path he was walking on, unable to focus on a single spot.

She could not see properly.

A wave of guilt and ice flooded his senses, darker and stronger than when he'd first heard news of the cruelty which had befallen her. The landslide had left her virtually blind and it was his fault, his for not being there for his lady. His inattentiveness had cost her her sight and nearly her life. He had to say something, anything, but she shook her head and waved her hands in the air, cutting his thoughts off before he could even form a word.

"No, don't tell me. I want to find out for myself." She gestured for him to come closer and, after missing it a few times, patted a stool that had been placed near her. Filled with uncertainty, Kent walked over and seated himself before her. She smiled up at him and reached towards his face, making motions indicating she wanted him to bend down over her, an inclination he readily obeyed.

He sat and waited patiently as her fingertips explored his face, lightly tracing the lines and grooves, 'seeing' him with her hands. He watched her forehead pile up with creases as she took the information and processed it within, forming a picture in her mind. As her fingers played across the down-turned corners of his mouth, her face split into a warm smile of complete recognition and she peacefully exhaled, "_Kent._" It seemed the brilliant tone of his hair was not necessarily his most identifiable feature; though, admittedly, it would have been a useless one in this instance.

He nodded beneath her hand, "Milady."

Silence again fell between them before he felt it was appropriate to speak. "Forgive me, Lady Lyndis, I should have been available to you. My lack of presence and foresight was inexcusable. I cannot--" She effectively silenced his words by placing her forefinger over his lips (after missing them a couple times at first) and shook her head lightly. The corners of her eyes creased with her gentle, understanding smile.

"No, Kent. Do not say that. If you had been there, you would have been crushed the same as I, perhaps even worse. After all, I told you to leave, did I not?"

"Even so, better myself than you, Lady Lyndis."

Her brows raised with concern and... hurt? "No, Kent. My life is not worth that of anyone else's and certainly not yours. You do not need to think such things."

His eyes remained fixated on her face and the expressions that crossed it as she spoke. She radiated such compassion for him and yet she was the one lying in the healer's cot battered and beaten. Why? Why did she feel such a thing for him? It was his responsibility, his _duty_ to keep her safe. If she denied him his purpose, then what was her true impression of him? What was her impression of herself? Duty aside, even, he regarded it an honor to serve and protect her. She was _worth_ it. And yet... it seemed to trouble her.

He took a breath, "Re... regardless, I--" Kent was interrupted by the rustle of the tent flap behind him. Serra had slipped inside and was tugging the entry closed behind her once more. In her hand, she held a healing staff not unlike the ones laying beneath and around the cot Lyndis was laying on.

Seeing this and knowing what was about to come, he began to feel he should leave before the entry was sealed off. Healing was a very personal and very _painful_ experience. Surely his lady would not appreciate him intruding on such a thing with his obtrusive presence. He began to rise, but quickly halted when he felt Lyndis's hand grasp his own.

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and blinked anxiously between him and the direction of the coming healer, her fearful and unseeing eyes entreating him to stay.

Kent had never particularly been known for having an empathetic nature. He had, in fact, gathered many epithets and descriptors throughout his service in Caelin relating to impressions of quite the opposite. Both behind his back and to his face he had been hailed as uptight, stiff, a hard case, a stick in the mud, 'Sir Serious', 'Mother' (by one particular individual who only called him that at the risk of his own hide), and 'FunKiller' among a broader variety of choices (many more 'colorful' than the last).

And yet, when she squeezed his hand and looked at him in that way, he felt compelled to stay, as if her touch had been as strong as steel rather than almost feather-light. Without thinking, he gently slid his fingers into her palm, lightly brushing her knuckles with his thumb as he re-seated himself upon the stool. He felt her squeeze his hand again and manage a shaky smile of gratitude at his continued presence.

Serra spared barely a glance in his direction before she began to set up for her procedure. Gingerly, she reached for Lyndis's head and began to unwind the bandage that was coiled around her temples. As she removed it, Kent could clearly see the ugly dark blotches resulting from where she had been struck by the falling debris earlier. It was a miracle she had survived, he imagined. Serra sat herself sideways behind Lyndis and lay her staff in her lap. Very carefully, she tilted her patient's head so it lay flat in front of her, and instructed her to close her eyes. Before beginning, however, she wrapped the soiled cloth over the crystal of her staff until it was completely hidden from view. The magic could be dulled but, that way, the brilliant glow that accompanied light magics would not ruin Lyndis's delicate lack of sight.

With some difficulty, she managed to prop the staff between her knees. She carefully put her palms over either side of the wrapped crystal, coaxing a faint glow from within them. She held her hands there for some time until the glow had transferred to her hands, whereupon she could now direct the energies of it as she would. She placed her hands over either side of Lyndis's head, gently pressing her thumbs into her temples. Lyndis emitted a small whine of fear and squeezed Kent's hand tightly. He was not entirely sure what his appropriate response should be, though he settled for stroking her knuckles lightly with his thumb.

She soon began to grip his hand with an increased intensity, however, once Serra truly began to implement the healing magic. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and she fought fiercely not to cry out at the incredible fire blazing in her head. Kent felt himself drawn forward as she pulled his hand closer to grasp with her other hand. Though still improperly bent, she began to raise her legs and push on the cot with her feet in feeble effort to escape to pain of the spell channeled by Serra's hands. When she was finally released from the excruciating experience, she whimpered a little and turned on her side, breathing intermittently in shudders.

Kent felt compelled to do something, anything. It was hard to see his lady go through such pain and to know she was not yet entirely healed. He was not sure, however, what he might possibly do that would not be inappropriate. She still held his hand, or his arm, rather, by this point, close to her chest. Very lightly, almost perhaps enough to be called timidly, he uncurled his hand and barely touched the edge of her jaw. Her eyes flared open, except now, they were no longer clouded with a lack of sight. She blinked at him a few times, her eyes adjusting to the limited light before smiling slightly. A moment later, however, her brow furrowed and she narrowed her eyes in focus. She released his arm and reached for him.

"Kent?" Her hands lightly prodded the side of his face and into his hairline before pulling him a little closer,"..is that blood?"

He started a little. Well, he hadn't had time to see a healer himself after the battle, he'd come straight to her.

She peered into his hair which had previously concealed his injury from discovery. "It is! Kent..."

Before he could make any sort of objection, Serra had preyed upon him, beginning her own, 'professional', inspection, clicking her tongue in disapproval. It seemed the he too would not be leaving the tent for some period of time. At least, however, he would be able to watch over his lady this way and ensure her safety through the night.

...x...

Fin.

Meh. This one gave me several problems. I am... reasonably satisfied, I suppose though.

Reviews always appreciated.


	5. Taste

Taste

...x...

Ash. Dry, flaky ash. The bitter sting of salt and the memory of blood.

And if that was what the first bite brought to mind, Lyndis did not want to risk her health again with the next. Disgusted and disappointed, she cast the disgraceful concoction into the compost heap. If luck was with her, it would not kill the pigs when they got their share of it in the afternoon.

She was in the kitchens, as she had been for the last several days. And, as a matter of some pride, she refused any help from the castle cooks. It didn't seem right to ask for or even accept help when she knew it would mostly be their work while she observed. And then the act would be neither special nor her own. She wanted to create things by her own skill; she wanted to impress.

When she left for the home of her birth, she would not have the luxuries supplied to her by the kitchens, and if she could not even cook with them, she did not know how she would function _without_ them. That was a troubling thought. While she had lived alone on the plains for those few, very painful months, she had, of course, been able to prepare food well enough to sustain her, to survive. It didn't take much to stick a slab of venison into a small fire, and it took even less to dry it out in the sun. Even so, survival was the basest form of living, and she wanted the experience to be rich for her and her beloved. He deserved as much, at the very least. He was abandoning everything he knew and was familiar with to come with her.

Several times the cooks had tried to return and usurp control of the kitchens back into their own hands, though they were only successful in the early morning hours and late evenings while Lyndis was asleep. Whenever she awoke, however, she would return to her task, shooing the staff out of her new domain so she could work. She would not be deterred from her path, no matter their insistence to assist or interfere. Again and again to craft something tasteful, or at the very least, edible, by her own hands. She had allowed herself the use of some of the scribbled recipes kept in the kitchen, but, while they had usually turned out acceptable and palatable, even, many included ingredients and or spices she would not be able to easily find out on the plains.

Disheartened at her continual failures, she sat down on the counter next to her bowl of cherries, sliding it into her lap, plucking one from the top of the pile, inserting it into her mouth, and pulling it off the stem which she twirled between her fingers. She sucked on the fruit gently until it burst and the sweet fluid flooded her mouth. It lingered for a while, allowing her to concentrate on enjoying it, savoring the texture. Once she had consumed the fruit itself, she liked to chew on the pit for a time. It was hard, but had enough give that it felt good on her teeth. It also served as a relatively passive way of getting her present frustrations out. When the pit finally devolved into a mass of strings and fibers which were absolutely nasty to both feel and taste, all remnants of the sweet flavour and texture of the fruit long since dissolved, she leaned over and 'delicately' spit it out into another bowl.

She was about to insert the stem into her mouth when she heard the sound of indiscreet rummaging from the direction of the pantry where various supplies and pre-created goodies were stored. Lyndis narrowed her eyes a bit, wondering if this was some new tactic by the cooks to divide and conquer the kitchen-area and regain their territory from underneath her notice. She quietly slid off the counter, replacing the bowl from where she had picked it up before slowly tip-toeing towards the noise. When she reached the pantry, she pulled the open door wider so she might see who the invader was.

She found not a cook, but_ Sain_ whose discovery startled him and caused his head to whip around towards her. He stared at her incredulously, a roll jammed into the front of his mouth, three more cradled in his arm. His other arm was frozen in the act of reaching for a fifth, his fingers outstretched for it, though not yet grazing the flaky sides. Ducking his head a little, he hastily pulled the roll from his mouth, his bite not yet pulled off and the crust lightly goobered with a thin film of spit from the puncture holes his teeth made and back. He rolled his shoulder up, quickly wiping his mouth on it before attempting to defend the felonious behavior he had been unwittingly caught in. "Lady Lyn, I can expl-"

He wilted into a crooked, sheepish grin as she quickly brought her face dangerously close to his, fixing him with a scrutinizing gaze. He didn't know what she was looking for, but that didn't make her any less intimidating. Eventually she seemed to come to a decision and, grabbing the front of his shirt in a fist, pulled him behind her as she walked back to the center of the kitchen. "You come with me."

Sain paled a little, unsure of what she meant or was intending on doing with him. He dared to make a plea, "Lady Lyn, please don't tell Madam C-"

"I have no intention of telling her." She interrupted turning to speak to him as she stopped where she had left before, "In return, however, you help me with something of mine. You can keep your 'loot' too, if you wish." She waved her hand vaguely at his still clutched hoard of rolls.

Sain blinked a bit at her, clearly expecting something else perhaps by way of verbal beating or to be used as a sacrifice to appease the usual inhabitants of the kitchen. His expression morphed into a wide smile and then into his charming grin, "Of course, Lady Lyn, you know I would help you with anything."

"Good," she said, "we start with this." She held one of the recipes up to his face while she inserted the neglected cherry stem into her mouth, twirling it around with her tongue as she watched him.

A little puzzled, he set his rolls on the counter before taking the parchment from her. He looked the thing over as he reinserted his already partially-masicated roll back into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. He turned it around and carefully analyzed what she was showing him, swallowing his spongy bite of bread before addressing her. "We are going to make this?"

"Mnn," She shook her head, walking back to another counter and returning with a tray holding a previous cooking attempt and setting it next to them. She shifted the stem to the side of her mouth so she might speak unimpeded, "I already did."

He narrowed his eyes quizzically, "Then...?"

She fussed with the stem a bit before finally pulling it out, a neat knot tied in the center. She rubbed her mouth with the back of her other hand before speaking, "You're going to tell me what I did wrong." She turned away from him and let him process her words while she dropped the stem into the same bowl she had spit her pit into and rummaged through drawers, opening and closing them in search of something. Eventually, after scouring nearly half the acreage of the kitchen, she found what she was looking for and came back to Sain, holding them out to him.

They were a knife and fork. "Well?" She intoned, one hand on her hip, her weight shifted mostly to one foot, an eyebrow quirked at him.

He looked at them, but did not reach for them, instead shifting his still quizzical look to her, "Lady Lyn, perhaps someone else is better suited..."

"You already committed." Her voice brokered no debate on the subject. "Besides, you came looking for food, and now you will be getting it."

He stared at the utensils for a while, looking between them and the tray of... something. He knew no amount of flattery would excuse him from her expectations and wondered if perhaps he ought to have taken his chances with the cooks, especially when her order of him was to find out 'what she did wrong'. Sighing, he set the recipe down and took the cutlery from her, smiling good-naturedly (albeit less brilliantly than before). "I am to be poison-checker, then?"

Her lips twisted into a grin, "Not quite, but if it makes you feel more important you can think of it that way if you wish."

Sain nodded before turning to the task before him. He hovered the fork over the dish hesitantly, moving it around, uncertain of where to start. Before he had even made a dent however, Lyndis tapped his arm, handing him a large mug of water and dropping a stool behind him. "You might want these." She pulled up her own stool and her bowl of cherries, settling down to observe him and his to-be-forthcoming critiques (and reactions).

He sat gratefully on the stool, though even more uneasy than before, if that was at all possible. He had to suck it up, though, 'take it like a man', as he'd often told his 'boon companion' Kent when he had been faced with undesirable situations. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lyndis take a cherry into her mouth, watching him expectantly. Taking a deep breath and gripping the fork determinedly, he stabbed a section of the preparation and sawed it off, quickly stuffing it into his mouth before he could think to change his mind.

It was not.... bad, actually. His stomach did not writhe like a basket of snakes as he had expected to, as she seemed to think it might. He rolled the chunk around in his mouth a bit before realizing it tasted....odd. He wasn't sure how to describe it. He grabbed the recipe and looked it over as he finished chewing the morsel and swallowed it. He coughed in his fist, his throat a little uncertain as to whether it wished to accept the thing as 'edible', and took a sip from his mug of water to help it down before he turned to her. "Ah, it is..."

Before he could finish his sentence, however, Lyndis spat her pit into the second bowl, and spoke, fixing him with a narrow glare, "I want the truth, now, Sain. I don't care if I am your leige or just a lady, if you start spouting any of your casual flattery I will know it for the bold-faced lie it is." She inserted the stem in her mouth and awaited his answer, allowing him time to adjust it if he needed.

He looked back to the recipe before speaking again, "Did you accidentally mix spices, perhaps? I'm not tasting the-" he stopped, distracted as Lyndis pulled another knotted stem from her mouth and twirled it between her fingers. He couldn't help but grin at her, his train of thought completely lost.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, "What?"

He propped his chin on his palm and his elbow on the counter, "You must be incredible."

His answer seemed to perplex her, "Incredible? At what? What do you mean?"

His grin split wide, as if he were trying very poorly to conceal a secret.

"Out with it, Sain."

He chuckled to himself a bit,"In Lycia... there is a rumor or tale that speaks of cherries and their relation to one's skill at kissing. To be able to tie the stem in a knot inside one's mouth, " he pointed to his own for emphasis, "belies great skill in giving Sacaen Kisses."

"Sacaen...Kisses? What do you mean? I have not heard of such a thing."

Sain pondered for a moment, before realizing his error, leaning close he clarified the term for her, whispering it in her ear, as it were scandalous to speak aloud.

"Oh!" she intoned, before lapsing into thought. She rolled her bottom lip over her teeth, biting lightly, "well that explains something."

"Hmm?"

It was her turn to smile, "Back home, with the rest of the Lorca, there was a festival we would actually take efforts to buy cherries for. I never understood it then, but, the other, older Lorca girls would always try to tie their stems into knots. They would giggle and applaud at each other's successes and look over their shoulders as if they might be being watched by someone. I suppose I know _why_, now. "

She sighed a bit, thinking fondly of her memories, before readdressing the situation Sain had sidetracked her from (as was probably his intention). She tapped the plate, "Your opinion, if you will. No embellishments, please."

Ah, yes, of course...

...x...

It was many hours before Sain was released from the kitchen. When he finally stumbled out, he was rather full, such that he felt his stomach threatened to wage a projectile war on his esophagus, something he rather hoped to avoid. The cuisine had greatly improved during his stay, but he found that the varied textures and flavours conflicted within in a somewhat unpleasant matter.

As he was trying (vainly) to distract himself from the guttural feeling, he bumped, rather ungracefully, into a good friend of his. The action was somewhat painful as the subject was wearing his customary armour while Sain was not; he was not perturbed in the least, however. "Kent! My boon companion!"

Kent affixed him him with a scrutinizing look, "And where have you been all day? Shirking your duties, no doubt."

"Ah, that you think so poorly of me wounds my soul, dear friend."

Kent was not moved, "Care to elaborate as to otherwise, then?"

"I have been in the gracious presence of our beauteous Lady Lyndis, at her request, of course. She was in need of my expertise."

"And what 'expertise' might this be that she would invite you to the kitchens, especially when she has not requested a thing any of these days prior?"

Sain's lips quivered with a grin that threatened to split his face, "Perhaps you ought to ask her yourself, hmm?" He coughed into a fist as his stomach decided to give an unseemly lurch.

Kent quirked an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

Sain nodded, "Oh yes. In fact, I think she was hoping you might come." He stopped for a moment, processing something, "Why are you down this hall anyway? I wouldn't expect you to actually be here before me without...." he pondered a moment, "were you being sent there already?"

Kent adjusted his weight on his feet, " I was.... approached, yes, by parties who were both concerned by her disregard for her ongoing lessons and the fact that the kitchens are required to prepare for a particular event this evening. They hoped I might persuade her to vacate, at least for a period of time."

Sain looked him up and down, "And you chose to come in full armour? It is not as if she will charge you with a cleaver in hand, my friend."

Kent rolled his eyes, shouldering past his friend, "If you will excuse me."

As Sain watched his friend walk down the hall, he couldn't help but call out, "I hope you like cherries!" He received no response.

...x...

Kent trotted carefully down the half-staircase into the kitchen, looking around him for his lady. The room was flooded with the various aromas of cooking, both pleasing and decidedly unusual. He was distracted from his observation, however, by Lyndis as she wrapped her arms around his neck, rising up on her toes to give him a quick kiss without preface. He was reminded of Sain's parting comment as he thought he tasted a bit of the sweet fruit on her lips.

"You came quickly," she remarked with a warm smile.

He cleared his throat, "I was sent here, milady, actually. There are some who hoped you might be encouraged to come out for a time."

"Oh?" She seemed a little distracted, looking down at something in one of her hands which she had withdrawn from his neck.

"Yes, I.... Lady Lyndis?"

"Hmm?"

He looked down at the tiny object himself, curious as to why it held her attention so. "What is that?"

She smiled at him playfully, "This?" She raised the object up between their faces, "Can you tell what it is now?"

Tilting his head to see it better, his brow furrowed in confusion, "It is... a cherry stem, milady."

"Mmm, I have one here for you too." She procured a second, and waiting until he had taken it from her hand to continue, "Do you know what it means?" She slipped hers into her mouth, twirling the smooth, tasteless fiber around with her tongue.

He simply shook his head ever so slightly, watching her with a degree of confusion.

When she finally removed the knotted stem, she held it up for him to see, "How about now?"

He stared at it for a while, the idea not clicking into his head. He recalled again what Sain had said, considering his words more carefully. When that failed, he reflected on what Lyndis had done with the stem.

Seeing his confusion, Lyndis lifted herself up towards him again, kissing his cheek. She brought her face close, brushing her nose over his and speaking in a mischievous whisper, "I could help you with yours, if you want."

Realization hit him harder than a well-aimed axe-handle to his head, his blood chilling with it. His face did not seem to know whether to pale or blossom into color and somehow became an interesting mixture of both. His breathing, motion, and just about any exercise of his muscles, save his heart, ceased, his eyes dilating with the shock, his own stem falling from his fingers and to the floor.

Lyndis could not help but giggle at the man's reaction, try as she might to take pity on him and conceal such a display. She gently brushed his bangs from his forehead, leaning up to give him a kiss there before lightly pulling him down into a hug (a gesture somewhat hampered by his tall bevor). When she finally released him, he seemed to have regained some of his normal functions, allowing him to blink a couple times. She threaded her hand into his and squeezed it, still unable to keep herself from at least grinning. "I _suppose_ I can be convinced to leave for a while."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he opted to nod, lightly squeezing her hand back before leading her back to the short staircase.

She playfully leaned into her knight after they had ascended up to the hallway and begun their walk down it. Oh, he was so much fun to tease.

...x...

I feel dreadfully silly. But there it is. x3 It was fun to write too, I hope it's not too terrible.

All five Senses. DONE. HOORAY. And In. Time.

Twas a fun challege.


End file.
